


Fetish -- Eames/Arthur

by hyperion



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Foot Fetish, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-20
Updated: 2010-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:32:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperion/pseuds/hyperion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone has a fetish. It may or may not be a foot fetish. Bonus mysterious Arthur back story and turnabout being fair play</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fetish -- Eames/Arthur

To say that Eames had a foot fetish would be untrue. If anyone happened to see what he was currently doing to Arthur, Eames could understand why they might think that he was a foot fetishist. But they would be wrong.

Arthur was currently spread across Eames’ hotel bed, fully clothed but for his bare feet. Eames had taken his time to untie Arthur’s laces, cupping Arthur’s heel through his soft sock as he pulled the shoe from his foot. Arthur’s shoes and socks were partially responsible for Eames’ obsession: For as long as Eames had known Arthur, Arthur’s feet had been encased in the finest Italian leather shoes and the most ridiculously cashmere socks, sure to keep Arthur’s feet soft and tender.

There was a noticeable scar on Arthur’s right heel, and when Eames asked, Arthur shrugged and gave some meandering reply about a childhood injury of which he had forgotten the details. However, Eames recognized that the injury had been serious enough to require stitches and the location would have made it painful enough to be remembered. Arthur’s left pinky toe was also just a little out of alignment with the rest of his foot, and Eames was certain that it had been broken, but he just got another shrug in response.

At some point in Arthur’s life, his feet had not been quite so well taken care of, and Eames’ fetish had a greater hold on Eames because of it. But that’s not why the fetish started.

The reason Eames began focusing on Arthur’s feet was because he _knew_ that none of Arthur’s previous lovers had ever taken the time to truly love every part of him. It was not that Eames particularly liked feet more than any other part of Arthur’s body – he could write essays about the curve of Arthur’s spine, the slope of his nose, the power in his too-lean thighs. It was that there was no chance of Arthur thinking about anyone else when he was with Eames, not even that sweetheart Ariadne, because Eames made love to Arthur in ways most others never even though about. And Arthur knew it.

That was why when Eames began to pull off Arthur’s socks, Arthur unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. His hand was inside his pants before Eames lips brushed over the ball of Arthur’s foot. Eames pressed the heel of his palm against his own cock, too turned on by the sight of Arthur’s hand moving under the material of his pants.

Eames drew Arthur’s big toe into his mouth and stroked his tongue against it just the way he would if it had been Arthur’s dick. Arthur sucked in a breath through his teeth and Eames smiled as he let go of Arthur’s toe.

“Always so sensitive, love,” Eames said as he nipped another of Arthur’s toes. “You should take to wearing a cheap pair of trainers, toughen these feet right up.”

Arthur snorted. “And then you’d actually have to do some work to get me off.”

“I could always just stick my tongue in your ear,” he replied casually as he massaged the arch of Arthur’s foot.

Arthur moaned at the thought and his hand stopped moving inside his pants as he forestalled his orgasm. In Eames’ quest to make love to every part of Arthur, he had found that French kissing Arthur’s ear would cause him to instantly come in his pants, no matter what else he was doing at the time. Eames loved knowing he could turn Arthur inside out in under a minute, and it had the added advantages of frustrating Arthur with his inability to control himself and pissing off Cobb if Eames did it in the middle of a dream.

Arthur pulled his foot out of Eames’s hands and offered up his other one. “I think you were in the middle of something,” he said, putting the spotlight back on Eames’ fetish.

Unabashed, Eames pressed his lips to the soft underside of Arthur’s foot, sucking small, temporary raspberries into the skin. The sound of the metal prong and frame of Arthur’s belt buckle clinking together as Arthur began jacking himself off again filled the room. Eames kept up with Arthur’s pace, applying more pressure, more suction, more teeth as Arthur’s breath and speed quickened. Eames raked his teeth across the arch of Arthur’s foot and felt the other man’s toes curl against his cheek.

Eames watched Arthur come, deep breaths stretching the tailored vest that was still buttoned, the head of Arthur’s dick visible for only a second at a time as he stroked himself to the end of his orgasm. Arthur jerked his foot out of Eames’ grasp, and Eames suddenly realized that he had been very fortunate in that he had not been kicked in the face yet, but that day would come eventually.

As Arthur came down from his orgasm, his foot settled on Eames’ thigh. Arthur pulled his hand out of his pants and reached for a tissue to wipe his come off, complaining, “I always get funny looks from the dry cleaners after I spend time with you,” as he scrubbed at the cuff of his shirt sleeve.

“Can’t imagine why,” Eames said as Arthur’s foot slid up his thigh and began to rub against the crotch of his pants. Arthur always made sure to get Eames off in kind, and though it would be more appropriate to say that Eames had an Arthur fetish rather than a foot fetish, he had to admit that none of his lovers had ever made love to him in the ways that Arthur did.


End file.
